


High-Fuctioning Sociopath

by ShadowIsEm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BoyxBoy, Crime and Investigation, Detective, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gay, John is in denial, Johnlock - Freeform, Love, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock is so gay it hurts, Sociopath, as usual, best pals, high-functioning sociopath, holmes - Freeform, mystrade, they are meant to be, totally platonic john, watson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowIsEm/pseuds/ShadowIsEm
Summary: 'I'm not a psychopath,I'm a high-functioning sociopath,do your research'





	1. 221b Bakerstreet

**Author's Note:**

> My OTP YASSS

John pondered his time over the last few months since he moved to 221b Baker Street. He wondered what would've become of him had he not bumped into Mike that day. His mind rejected the idea pretty quickly, remembering how dull and meaningless his life seemed back then when he was alone. 

He hated inflating Sherlock's already too big ego, but he couldn't deny that Sherlock saved him from perhaps a lifetime of nothingness and brought back colour into his bland mind. He found himself listening to the soft tune that drifted around the entire flat from below him, Sherlock once again pulling an all-nighter to construct his melodies from his violin.

John worried about Sherlock's state more than he had business to, he knew Sherlock was... Different in pretty much every aspect of a typical human beings life, but that was just Sherlock. John constantly poked at Sherlock, telling him to get a proper nights sleep or to eat more than one small meal a day. It was even more hopeless when they were granted a case, poor Sherlock would kill himself with exhaustion trying to think of solutions and conclusions in that 'mind palace' of his. 

He smiled at the thought of Sherlock's stubbornness, knowing he wouldn't trade these past months for the world. 

_______________

"The Hounds of Baskerville?" John heard Sherlock perk from behind him, clearly reading over John's shoulder. "Problem?" John tilted his head slightly to glance at Sherlock who sneered in distaste. "It wasn't a hound", Sherlock straightened up and meandered his way over to his seat. 

"It was Sherlock".

"Are you forgetting... Absolutely EVERYTHING that happened in that endeavor? I thought we equally and wholly agreed that it was the bloody mist drugging us into seeing the dog as a abnormal and bloodthirsty hound that never truly existed", Sherlock stared at the blank screen of the television while John chuckled and turned to face his laptop. 

"Yes, but we all thought it was a hound from the beginning until we found what it really was, so I'm telling the story in the process as we saw it equally, so they feel like they were there too", John explained as he continued to type from memory into his blog which was pleasantly increasing in popularity much to his giddiness. 

"They weren't, so what's the point?"

"Please Sherlock, some people enjoy hearing these stories and they like imagining themselves venturing through it with us", John stated and Sherlock scoffed while rolling his eyes.

"You're putting mindless illusions in the heads of mindless individuals", Sherlock said.

"They read it on their own account", John shrugged dismissively, ignoring the rest of Sherlock's complaints until he completed the entry, smiling triumphantly to himself as he quickly scanned it over to ensure it lacked any grammar errors. John gently shut his laptop and pushed his chair back to stand and head towards the kitchen, feeling Sherlock's eyes follow him.

"John?" Sherlock called to him as John reached the counter and prepared himself a cup of tea. John hummed in response without having to look at Sherlock. "I'm going to use your laptop", John looked back at his tall and slender flatmate that loomed over his wireless device, already tapping his fingers on the keyboard.

"What- Sherlock! You don't know my-"

"Already in", Sherlock lowered himself into John's seat, his eyes focused on the screen. "No, how the hell do you keep figuring out my password? I changed it last week", John trudged over to Sherlock and slammed the laptop down before lifting it and walking away with Sherlock scowling after him with irritation. 

"Oh please John, your passwords are as transparent as your relationships", Sherlock propped his elbows on the surface of the table, pressing his palms together and resting his chin on his fingertips. "What does that even mean?" John demanded, clearly offended.

"Don't be petty and take it to heart John, pettiness doesn't suit you".

John opened his mouth to continue arguing but shook his head and laid his laptop on the counter safely away from any probable damage that might occur. John completed his task in making a cup of tea while smiling to himself. "For me? Oh John you shouldn't have", Sherlock swooped by and wrapped his slender fingers around the handle of the mug while lifting it and walking away.

"Hey-Sherlock! That's mine!" John snapped in irritation. "Oh, a little bitter if you ask me but it'll do, much obliged", Sherlock spun a little to smirk and wink at John before continuing his stride to his bedroom and shut the door behind him. 

John contemplated what the hell brought him here once again. When Sherlock was being insufferable, he wondered yet again why he still bothered but always reminded himself what staying with Sherlock offered. A home, a job, a meaning and most of all, a friend.

John couldn't seem to grasp his anger after that.

________________

Yes. Johnlock. Different indeed but totally worth is since I have been DYING to write one about Johnlock ever since I started episode one like three weeks ago. If you haven't seen Sherlock, I wouldn't recommend it if you have somewhat of a life. Once you enter the Sherlock fandom, there's no escape.

~ShadowIsEm~


	2. Sherlock Holmes

John was not sure why Sherlock was being the way he was. Performing a god knows what experiment with god knows what in their kitchen. "Fascinating", Sherlock could be heard saying similar words such as this with awe attached to his tone. "How curious", John heard him hum.

 

"Sherlock?" John finally turned his head to look at his flatmate. Sherlock didn't respond but John knew he had heard him. 

 

"What on earth are you doing back there?"

 

"It's science John".

 

"Is it? Do your little experiments have to be tested in the kitchen? You know, the place where food is kept?"

 

"I am quite aware of the purposes a kitchen fulfills", Sherlock bluntly proclaimed.

 

"Then you should know that doing unhygienic things in that area shouldn't be occurring", John narrowed his eyes when Sherlock finally rose his gaze to meet John's. "What are you on about John?"

 

"What am I- Sherlock! Stop doing experiments in the bloody kitchen!"

 

"Please John, don't raise your voice and glare at me like that, it makes you look elderly", Sherlock practically waved of John's demands like it were dust in the air. "Sherlock! Did you hear anything I just said?" John demanded angrily, Sherlock scoffing and looking back down at his work on the counter. 

 

"John, it's hard not to hear you when you're screeching at me like that, quite similar to a banshee if I think about it".

 

John opened his mouth to spit a remark back at Sherlock but bit it back, knowing full well he'd lose this argument either way. He sighed and dismissively shook his head at Sherlock before pushing himself off his seat and leaving the room while heading for the stairs. 

 

"John? Where are you going?" Sherlock called to him from the kitchen.

 

"Why should it matter to you where I'm going Sherlock?" John barked his response in bitterness. He knew he was being immature, but all he wanted was for Sherlock to at least once acknowledge John's existing emotions, despite Sherlock acting as though he had no idea what feelings felt like when they were hurt... Or just experiencing emotion in general.

 

"Why do you sound so upset?" Sherlock poked his head from the top of the stairs to watch as John snatched his jumper from the coat hanger and trudged to the door while opening it. "Maybe you should think about that one Sherlock?" John swung the door shut behind him once he left the confinements of the place he called home. 

 

John wished he could understand Sherlock sometimes. Even though the two males had become infinitely closer over the time they spent together than they had become with those whom they've known they're whole lives, they still remained unbeknownst to each other as it seemed. At least that was how John felt. Knowing Sherlock, he probably knew more about John than John's sister knew about him. As for John himself, he knew very little about Sherlock as a person.

 

He was a genius. 

 

The only consulting detective in the world. (He made up the title).

 

Arrogant.

 

Selfish.

 

Unaware of other people in general, notwithstanding their emotions.

 

He has no friends, aside from John as he claims.

 

He's a 'high-functioning sociopath'.

 

He's not straight, nor is he gay. (As he claims).

 

He has a brother named Mycroft who worries about him.

 

John listed what little he knew about his colleague and flatmate, often finding himself repeating a lot of the points but in a different array of words. He let out a frustrated breath which formed a cloud to show how nippy it was out. It wasn't as if he could ask Sherlock these things. Sherlock would most likely brush them aside as 'nitty gritty' details that are unimportant and unrelated to work. All Sherlock seemed to care about was keeping himself occupied, his work and deducing.

 

Despite all that, John couldn't find himself denying the extreme amount of fascination he had with regards to Sherlock. 

 

The man was a genius. Absolutely brilliant and fantastic at what he does. John reminded himself that he wouldn't change Sherlock for the world, knowing that Sherlock was most likely John's lifeline and purpose to fill in the universe. He loved the thrill he got from working with Sherlock in these cases. He loved watching Sherlock work his magic in deduction, despite the fact Sherlock seemed to really hate John complimenting him out loud.

 

He closed his eyes and made a mental note to himself that he should stop doing that.

_______________

When John opened the door to his and Sherlock's shared flat he immediately wanted to turn back and leave again when he saw Sally standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed, that usual bored expression glued to her face.

 

"What is it this time?" John asked as he slowly trekked his way to the steps. "Dunno, Greg just said 'Sherlock will figure it out' and that's all I need to know", Sally rolled her eyes and looked to the wall blankly.

 

John clenched and unclenched his knuckles, trudging up the staircase and into the main living room. "Sherlock?" John poked his head inside before fully walking in, Lestrade looking to John once noticing his presence.

 

"Hello John", Greg greeted him.

 

"Lestrade he-"

 

"No time for the formalities John, there's been a murder! Come now my dear Watson we have a crime scene to investigate", Sherlock emerged from the kitchen, whipping his blue scarf around his neck before grabbing John by the arm and dragging him right out the living room.

 

"Hey, hang on Sherlock", John abruptly yanked his arm from Sherlock's hold, turning to fully face him with a scowl.

 

"What is it John? Time is precious you know, every second wasted here is a second wasted to working out this case", Sherlock rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, clearly irritable and desperate to start analyzing this case.

 

"Is that it Sherlock? You haven't got a single thing to say to me?"

 

"Should I be saying anything to you?" Sherlock seemed genuinely confused.

 

"Unbelievable", John really wished Sherlock had at least come to his senses and would just apologize, the fact that John has to explain this to Sherlock baffled him beyond imagination.

 

"I'm confused, what's the problem?"

 

"Solve the case on your own Sherlock, honestly I don't understand what you need me there for since you figure it all out on your own anyway", John threw up his hands exasperated and turned away from Sherlock to go up to his room.

 

"Wait- John you know I always appreciate your input!" Sherlock proclaimed in a weak attempt to convince John to join him.

 

"Oh yeah Sherlock, I'm sure, you can tell me ALL about it when you piece it together with your bloody skills, you talk to the air as though I'm there regardless so I don't understand what you're trying to call me with you for", John just wanted to hear Sherlock say sorry. 

 

He knew he cared about Sherlock and loved working with him but just once, he wanted to hear an apology come from Sherlock's lips at least once. Maybe he was immature but it was how he felt, even though he knew damn well Sherlock didn't understand emotions.

 

"I don't understand".

 

"I'm not going with you!" John said loudly while trekking up the stairs, Sherlock watching him walk away.

 

"See what happens when you're a freak? Even your boyfriend over there can't stand your shit", Sally remarked, Sherlock's eyes shooting to her instantly.

 

"Please Donovan, you can't even begin to speak since, when was the last time you held a relationship? Oh and your late night chats with Anderson certainly don't count. Lestrade? Shall we?" Sherlock swiftly walked past her and went downstairs with Greg following.

_________


	3. Opening up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just read

"Oh? You're still here love? I thought you and Sherlock went out to solve a case?" Mrs Hudson seemed genuinely surprised to find John sitting alone in his chair with a cup of tea in hand.

"I stayed back", John simply said, not removing his gaze from Sherlock's empty chair. "Why is that dear? Did you two have a little domestic again? Reminds me of when my husband was around, oh you two remind me of us at times, always bickering about simple nonsense", she drawled on about her late husband, John raising his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Nothing different from the norm Mrs Hudson", John simply ignored her comparison that was made about he and Sherlock to her marriage.

"Difficulty is it? Yeah well, that's Sherlock, he can be a real doll when he likes you know, I love his soft side. I'm sure he shows it to you more than he likes to", John sighed at her comment, trying really hard to ignore her hinting.

"If he does I'm not aware of it, he's just been a real pain lately", John took a sip of his drink.

"I'm sure you two will work it out dear, you always do manage to push through the quarrels", she patted John on the shoulder gently with her small and pruned hand before retracting and walking into the kitchen.

"Goodness! What a state!" She looked down at the clutter on the kitchen counter most likely from Sherlock's experiments.

John quickly stood up when he heard the front door open then slam shut, an indication that Sherlock had arrived home. 

"John! John those morons don't know how the hell to analyze a scene properly these days! Do they honestly have degrees because they always seem to miss the bigger picture, they can't even see what's right in front of them! There was a trail the whole time that they failed to see until I instantly pointed it out! The floorboards were soaked in certain areas which gestures to a person moving around being soaked from the rain of the evening and lead right to the-" Sherlock stopped talking when John stepped out the living room and came face to face.

John stared the taller male down before taking a sip of his tea and brushing past to head up the stairs leading to his room.

"John?"

"It's late Sherlock, I think I'm gonna take a shower then hit the hay, don't bother waiting for me", John shrugged Sherlock's stare off and entered his bedroom, shutting the door to muffle Sherlock's confused call of his name.

It was strange. John found himself thinking yet again about Sherlock himself. He was a master at deduction, almost always analyzed a situation perfectly with only one glance at a person in the span of a few moments. He could do that, be he couldn't tell whether a person was feeling sad or not.

He may have 'deleted' the existence of emotional attachments from his state but surely he should be able to read a person based on their emotional state? No. Emotions are unimportant to work. No, no need to be aware of his only friends emotions. No, John doesn't have feelings, it's fine to be a cock when he deemed it necessary.

John shook his head viciously as he tried to rid himself of these negative thoughts but they just kept swarming back to fill the void that desperately tried to reason John conscience and calm him down. What surprised him beyond imagination was when he heard a knock at his door, his eyes drifting to it.

"John?" He blinked, recognizing that voice as it belonged to Sherlock. "What is it Sherlock?" John made no attempt to open the door.

"I sense a tension, can we please rectify this timeless situation?"

"Tomorrow Sherlock, we can talk tomorrow", John wasn't in the mood to have this conversation with Sherlock. He needed to take a shower and sleep on it to let his nerves settle before he faced Sherlock again.

Sherlock didn't respond, at first John assumed he had made his way off but he hadn't heard Sherlock walk away from his door so he assumed Sherlock was just standing there.

"Sherlock?"

"John?"

"Don't you have a case to deduct?" John asked, desperate for Sherlock to just bugger off and let John be left to his own devices for a short while.

"I... uh... Yes", John found himself surprised once again by Sherlock's hesitation. He's never heard Sherlock sound so off guard and unsure in their entire time spent together as flat mates and colleagues.

Sherlock was heard slowly walking away from John's door, leaving him confused and slightly stunned.

Odd.  
________

John cringed at the stench that drifted throughout the flat, recognizing that smell regretfully so. Nicotine. He could've sworn he threw those damn cigarettes out when he caught Sherlock carrying them and part of him doubted Sherlock went out of his way to by a new pack.

It was very odd for Sherlock to be smoking during a case. Usually boredom drove him into this desire for a fix. Surely Sherlock couldn't be bored already? When he last spoke about the case he sounded pretty enthusiastic so why would he need the relief of these drugs now? 

"Sherlock?" John scrunched his face as the smell grew more defined and noticeable the closer he got to the living room, spotting Sherlock lingering by the far window with his violin propped between his shoulder and chin.

"Why the hell-"

"Shut up... You've interrupted my thought process", Sherlock snapped not turned to face John as he removed the violin from his neck.

John refrained from barking back and trudged to the windows and pried then all open to air out the building, the smell of the nicotine enough to make him cringe indefinitely. John looked to his slender partner, noticing his lips holding a stick between them, the end nearly burned down to ash completely. John took the opportunity to snatch the nearly finished stick from Sherlock and tossing it out the open window.

"You infuriate me at times John", Sherlock finally opened his eyes to stare at the ex-military doctor with a blank stare. 

"Is that so? You sure you're not talking about the other way round?" John rubbed his hands together as if to rid them from the presence of the now disposed drug.

"You've made it thus far have you not? Surely by now the difference between society and myself is clear as day to you and you've made your mind of your association with regards to me?" Sherlock took a step back and lurked to his seat. He jumped up and sat himself on the backrest of the sofa while taking his regular stance by placing his closed palms to rest below his chin.

"You make me wonder Sherlock", John murmured but Sherlock definitely heard him.

Sherlock hesitated his next words. 

"Are you unhappy here John?"

This threw dear Watson off quite a bit as he looked at Sherlock with a surprised expression. Of course he was content staying here in 221b Bakerstreet with Sherlock, he wouldn't change it for the world. How could he tell that to Sherlock without sounding prestigious? His pride withheld the truth as he gave Sherlock a half assed response.

"What on earth gave you that notion?"

"You refused to work through this case with me which was unusual... You've been tense lately too, I first assumed you were being immaturely bratty like usual because of the mini argument we had but you don't let it stretch out this far with even more severe discussions..." Sherlock made a valid point right there.

John has never been this pissy over something so small before. They've had worse arguments that didn't get him so flustered for so long and he never let them get in the way of the work they did together.

"It's bothering me irritably so... I can't focus on the case when I've got my little blubbering doctor throwing hissy fits on the one side", Sherlock seemed infinitely humiliated in confessing such a thing. Confessing that he was worried about John.

"Why should that matter Sherlock?" John mulled out the situation further in hopes of getting a more genuine and intimate response, hoping Sherlock wouldn't catch on to what he was trying to do.

"Because I... I need you there to get me right... It is what you do..." Sherlock grew agitated. "Such pathetic stances to admit to yes... But I want you with me without a tension drifting between us... You're the only one who's managed to stick with me so often without referring to me as a freak or assuming I'm a psychopath..."

John found himself wondering whether he was imagining all this, this was completely out of Sherlock's character to be so brutally honest about his seemingly nonexistent emotions. This was what John wanted to hear. It was better than what he thought he'd receive and to be honest, he was damn pleased with himself.

"What I'm trying to say is well... I'm sorry", Sherlock looked away from John with a frustrated glare. John could've sworn he saw Sherlock's cheeks redden.

"Right. Good. It's about time Sherlock", John casually brushed off his obvious satisfaction to literally winning to Sherlock this one time. He noted that whenever Sherlock was in such an honest state, he grew extremely flustered and a bit desperate. Last time Sherlock was like this was the Baskerville Hound endeavor when Sherlock reassured John that he considered John to be his one friend. To be honest m, despite his bland response to Sherlock's confession he was beaming and glowing from the inside.

Just as he was glowing on the inside and outside right now.

______________


	4. Absolutely smashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunkness. Yep that’s pretty much it.

The case ended up being as simple as Sherlock insisted it was. He would've solved it on the first encounter of the scene had John not taken up most of his thoughts. His mind was fogged up by John often when they were having a rough patch in their way, always worrying about John contemplating the possibility of just buggering off from their shared home and leaving Sherlock alone in the dust with a confused void soaking him up.

He was quite aware how redundant this entire situation was but he tried his best not to dwell on circumstances that were aside from his work.

Boredom was once again his lot when they wrapped up the case which left Sherlock empty handed and itching to work on the next crime scene.

He consumed most of his free time constructing melodies from his violin, playing day and night trying not to shoot up the walls again as John requested him to be quieter when resolving his boredom.

"Sherlock?" John came inside the living room and went to his seat, Sherlock giving him a glance before returning to stare out the window.

"A new one I see?"

"What?" John frowned looking over at the detective in confusion. 

"You're clearly seeing another possible partner", Sherlock proclaimed bluntly, John clearing his throat while smiling lopsidedly to himself and ignoring his extreme confusion as to how the hell Sherlock knew about it this time.

"Maybe".

"Meet her at the store? Or was it the café? Could be a store conjoined as a café", Sherlock murmured just loud enough for John to hear him.

"A coffee shop... Yes", John didn't bother asking how Sherlock knew. 

"Judging by your neatly picked attire, you really want to impress this one, more than you did the last, how many was it? Dozen?" Sherlock was no doubt mocking John's disability to maintain a long term relationship, even though most of them ended because of Sherlock.

"I just want someone to love Sherlock", John tried to word it in a way Sherlock may be able to understand to somewhat of an extent. "Someone to love? How dull? All you people are the same with your mediocre goals and ambitions", Sherlock stared out into the street, noticing the white specks that drifted through the air to indicate it was snowing.

"They may be mediocre to you Sherlock but not everyone is like you", John scoffed.

"Certainly not, I think the world would be a lot more intriguing if people were to apply more of their brain cells", Sherlock turned to John and smiled gingerly before returning to look outside.

"One of you and Mycroft is hard enough", Sherlock didn't like John putting him and his brother's name in a singular sentence, especially when describing intelligence.

Sherlock was always second best to Mycroft who was sadly a fraction smarter than his younger brother. Sherlock believed however that he had the upper hand being better looking, as what the very dedicated fans would say to him. At least Sherlock had a friend, which in Mycroft's eyes was actually a disadvantage, always being quick to remind Sherlock of Redbeard.

Cock.

Sherlock unintentionally rammed the side of his closed fist into his window frame, his teeth gritting together. "Sherlock?" John cut him from his frustration and he looked at him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. Quite alright, why wouldn't I be?" John knew Sherlock well enough by now that if there wasn't something wrong Sherlock wouldn't provide a row of answers to a simple question that only required one word, but John knew better than to push Sherlock into talking.

John looked at his watch and quickly shot out of his seat, knowing this conversation wasn't going to end well if it proceeded. 

"I should be heading out now", John backed away towards the door and Sherlock kept his eyes on John. 

"How do I look?" John asked, not really wanting a full answer that Sherlock would no doubt provide. 

"Forget it", John interrupted Sherlock before he could start. "Enjoy", Sherlock said to John's retreating back as he trudged down the stairs.

_________

"Ta ta ta Holmesy", Sherlock opened his eyes slowly after being awaken by an obnoxiously slurred voice and a finger jabbing into his forehead.

"John?" Sherlock shifted in his position on his bed, realizing he must've fallen asleep while reading again, seeing as he was still in his daytime attire.

"Did I wake ya? Shit... Forget it now Holmesy, go back to sleep!" John dragged his hand over Sherlock's face, going from his forehead all the way down to his chin until Sherlock roughly smacked it away.

"Have you been drinking?" Sherlock suddenly noticed the stench of alcohol wafting from John's lips, a giggle escaping his moistened lips.

"Only a little whisky", he rose his hand and separated his thumb from his index finger to show how 'little' whisky he drank. Sherlock had absolutely no idea how to handle John drunk, mainly because he's never had to face this endeavor before now. Usually he'd talk the drunk clients away or just straight up tell them to piss off, depending on his mood.

But this was John. He deserved extra treatment and care.

"Where's this girl you went with?" Sherlock tried to speak in the most simple dialect possible for the drunken John to understand.

"Nah mate she left early. She was saying how she saw me on the telly with you... The-the nerve of that wench! Sh-she even went as far te ask me to introduce her te ya! While she was on a date with me! I went on my own to get a little drink", John rose his hand again to show how 'little' alcohol he consumed.

Sherlock let out a low growl and awkwardly pat John on the back as a form of comfort as to how shit his date turned out being.

"There there".

"Sherly... you bloody suck at comforting", John leaned his side against Sherlock whilst giggling, Sherlock indefinitely flinching at the contact.

"I think you should... Sleep", Sherlock stood quickly to remove John's touch from his side, watching as John lamely fell to his side on the bed while laughing foolishly.

"Sleep? Why would I wanna sleep? Bloody hell am I that bad company? Probably yeah, like you barely notice I'm gone", Sherlock's eyes soften.

"That's not true John, I believe your presence is quite relieving and refreshing. I always appreciate you being with me", Sherlock tried his best to find a proper sentence to reassure John but it fell flat as John's face contorted into a look of displeasure.

"Yeah, I'll bet".

Sherlock found himself panicking, hating that even when John was in a vulnerable state like being absolutely hammered, he still managed to fuck it up and upset him.

"My dear Watson, don't doubt yourself! I care about you more than I care about Mycroft".

John snorted, "That's not saying much".

"You'd be surprised", Sherlock's eyes locked with John's the first time today, their stare lingering until John clearly got bored and started drifting.

"You've got a lot of shit in here", John commented as he studied the room. "How incredibly kind of you to say", Sherlock sarcastically scoffed, soon feeling John grab his wrist and yank him down back onto the bed.

"Sit the bloody hell down Holmes! I don't like ya standing over me like that", John fell back into the mattress and blew out his mouth.

"What on earth are you on about?"

"Standing over me like ya wanna do me", John laughed out loud as if it were the funniest thing ever, Sherlock's eyes spreading wide open in shock. "P-Pardon?" Sherlock was flustered, watching John smile lopsidedly at Sherlock's reaction but didn't respond to him.

Sherlock retreated from the bedroom, his eyes as wide as saucers and his face beet red. He had never felt so incredibly flustered in his life. It was a strange reaction from the consulting detective seeing as he'd encountered drunken morons before, some woman mindlessly whored themselves at him but he always found a way to casually wiggle his way out of such uncomfortable situations.

"Sherlock?! Where'd you run off to?" John shouted from the room with a giggle to follow his sentence.

Sherlock didn't respond but he did go into the kitchen to grab a glass and fill it with water before he slowly made his way back to his bedroom. "You can sleep in here for the night, I hardly believe you are capable of going up to your own room in such a state", Sherlock spoke after clearing his throat to recollect himself once more.

"Where're you going to sleep then? Here with me?" John slapped the space on the bed beside him while smiling semi-seductively.

"No", was Sherlock's simple response as he shoved the glass of water into John's hands, miraculous that it hadn't spilled at the action.

"Aw! Why not?" John took a gulp of water before spitting out the bit that remained in his mouth, wetting a spot on Sherlock's bed covers. "Why're you givin' me water?" John whined, water streaming from the corners of his mouth and dribbling from his chin. 

"You're drunk enough as it is John, why would I give you more alcohol?"

"Make me... More... Vulnerable?" John hiccuped but still drank more of the water that remained in the glass.

Sherlock didn't respond.

"That's a bloody first! Sher-Sherlock Holmes is silent!" John finished the last of the water and held it out to Sherlock who snagged it and left the room hastily before returning with another glass of water and two pills.

"Take these unless you want to wake up with a regretfully pounding headache", Sherlock instructed and John reluctantly obliged.

 

"I-I always wake up with a headache of regret! That's what I get for living with Sherlock Holmes! Fuck it to hell then! Cheers!" John rose the glass in the air before dunking the pills in his gob and downing the glass of water to the last drop.

Sherlock frowned at John's word. Drunk words. Sober thoughts. Was he really that much of a misfortune to endure living with?

Sherlock knew he was a complete dickhead and freak. John only ever called him an arse and cock. He wished at times he could just be... Normal.

 

______________________


	5. Curiosity killed the cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff.

The headache John received the next morning was dulled by whatever medication Sherlock offered and was not nearly as bad as it could have been, but it was still fucking awful to endure. He told himself he owed Sherlock a thank you for his care and kindness, uncharacteristically so, as well as for letting John spend the night in his bed.

"Ugh... Christ", John stumbled out Sherlock's bedroom and into the kitchen, his feet still trying to find themselves and making John stumble back and forth into the walls.

"Morning John, sleep well?" Sherlock glanced at John from his laying down position on the couch.

"Piss off", John growled, the corners of Sherlock's lips twitched up.

"Drink some water, that should relieve a fraction of the pain", Sherlock instructed quietly as his eyes subtly examined John from head to toe. "Yeah", John nodded slowly and shuffled back into the kitchen while gripping his aching temples.

Sherlock didn't get any sleep that night, his mind was swarming with thoughts concerning what John said last night. It annoyingly poked at him, paranoia washing on the surface of his mind despite Sherlock's anxious attempts to push them away. 

Was he truly that much of an ass that John regretted ever moving here? Was John actually conspiring to leave Sherlock? Did John really hate him? What could he do to make it up to John? What could he do to make him stay? What if John actually did endeavour on leaving 221B? What would become of Sherlock? Would he leave Sherlock altogether and act like they never met? How could Sherlock possibly continue without his best friend? What if-

"Did a case come up?" Sherlock's paranoid thoughts were cut off by John's voice. 

"No".

"Then why are you so quiet? Usually you'd jump at the opportunity to poke fun at my choice of activity last night?" John was almost asking for it unbeknownst to him.

"I'm thinking". 

 

"Oh really? Should've thought of that", John scoffed in irritation at Sherlock's pointless response. "You don't recall what you did last night?"

"Uh, vaguely... I remember coming home, I can't remember what I said but I do remember you giving me water and medication", John's head hurt when he tried to unravel the nights occurrences.

"Interesting", Sherlock hummed gravelly.

"What? What did I say?" John suddenly became worried when he noticed the smirk that sat upon Sherlock's features. "Nothing really unless you count you insinuating us having sexual intercourse and me sleeping with you in my bed", Sherlock described the scenario in the most deadpanned manner possible, holding in the itching desire to admire the humiliation that was undoubtedly prominent on John's face.

Sherlock finally turned his head to catch glimpse of John's pale face with a horrified expression to add to it. "You can't be serious..." John whined at him while slumping his shoulders. "Why would I make it up? I have no reason to do so", Sherlock shot  stare John's way. 

"What did you say?"

"No, obviously", Sherlock's gaze lingered for a moment before he forced himself to look away, a strange sensation of warmth overcoming his cheeks. 

John let out a defeated sigh before clenching and unclenching his fists. "Forget it... All of it... I'm going to take a shower", John concluded with a roll back of his shoulders. "Are you going to ask me to join you", Sherlock let a smirk crack at the corners of his lips but he didn't look at John, just listening and hearing a sharp intake of air entering the Ex-Military doctor's lungs. 

 "Piss off Sherlock", John grumbled and a chuckle erupted from Sherlock before he shut his eyes and rose his hands to rest together beneath his chin, entering his mind palace. 

John. John. John. What a curious person indeed. Sherlock could deduct surface facts about the man but that doesn't mean he understood him. The more time he spent with John, the more curious he became. He was subdued to his entire façade and everything he was. He was the most fascinating individual Sherlock had the good fortune of encountering. Hell, he had an entire room dedicated to the man in his mind palace. Sherlock didn't just associate an entire room to just any individual he stumbled across. Every little thing he'd learn about John was stored in that room for possible future necessities.  

He was involuntarily ripped from his 'John room', when a presence strayed beside him, his eyes opening and he growled lowly, knowing who it was without even having to waste a glance his way.

"What do you want?"

"Can't I come for a visit to see my dear little brother?" Mycroft's toxically posh voice harshly landed on Sherlock's ears with major distaste. "Not you", Sherlock finally turned to look up at his older sibling, the brothers sharing a glare that always seemed to find a way to them whenever they were in the presence of one another.

"I'll say it once more, what do you want?"

"To have a little chat of course", Mycroft twirled the handle of the umbrella in his hand as he sneered to the Consulting Detective. "What could you possibly want to chat about? I'm not accepting the Riverlake case brother dear, it's tedious and so obvious that even the likes of you could figure it out".

"I wanted to discuss a fairly familiar acquaintance of yours", Mycroft claimed the seat opposite Sherlock, however the multi coloured orbs of the younger remained focussed on the blank screen of the television, his gaze studying his reflection.

"Sherlock have you seen my-"

"Try the bedroom John, you slept in there the entirety of the night", Sherlock answered before John could even complete his sentence.

"You slept together did you? I would've thought this endeavour had occurred long ago", Mycroft's sneer increased as he twirled his umbrella, both Holmes' hearing a particularly agitated groan resonating from the doctor. 

"I slept in his bed, alone", John concurred hastily. "Rough night of drinking I see? Too bad you couldn't see that girl's eye was directed elsewhere", Mycroft said snarkishly, John's muscles tensed at his statement. "How would you... You know what? Forget it", he threw his hands up in defeat and retired to Sherlock's room in search of his wallet.

"Acquaintance?" Sherlock mumbled in boredom, wanting this exchange to be over.

 

"Moriarty", Sherlock's muscles tensed at the sound of that name, his eyes sharply shooting to look at Mycroft. "Ah, that name always does seem to peak your interest", Mycroft sneered cynically to which Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned his attention to John who trudged in.

"Always delightful to see you Mycroft", John sarcastically spoke up. "Likewise Mr Watson", Mycroft always put John on edge, his entire atmosphere and morals both pissed John off as well as unsettled him. He still had to remind himself that these two were brothers because they looked absolutely nothing alike and Sherlock, in John's opinion, was far more approachable than Mycroft.

Mycroft was the only person who exceeded Sherlock in being a pompous prick. 

"May I ask why you're here?"

"You may but don't expect an answer", Sherlock perked, his eyes looking around the room with a particular distaste. "Family matter's John, despite your keenness for my brother, you aren't entitled to these details", Mycroft sneered and John wondering how many times he'd have to punch Mycroft to wipe that look off his face. 

"Keenness? Like the situation between you and Lestrade?" Sherlock mocked, Mycroft's head shooting to look at his brother sharply. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me quite well".

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?" John looked between the two with obliviousness. 

"You miss everything John..." Sherlock slowly looked up at his partner. "Everything".

 

_______________________


	6. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone, lonely lone

"What did Mycroft want?" John inquired as he seated himself in his chair with a steam mug of tea in his hand. "Nothing, just to arise a situation that is honestly dulling to the bone", Sherlock twirled a particularly annoying curl that hung in front of his eyes.

"You always say that", John rolled his shoulders back and fixated his eyes on the detective who gnawed at his lower lip, briefly casting a glance John's direction. 

"Because it's a fact", Sherlock pressed his closed palms below his chin before sliding them up and resting them against his lips. "Just like the rotation of the Earth is a fact", John sipped his tea, watching Sherlock's eyes slip closed and a sharp exhale exited through his nostrils.

"On this irrelevant topic again?"

"Because I find it astonishing that you don't know about the process of the sun and Earth!" John stated with a laugh, Sherlock's agitation humouring him. "I don't need to know about all this ecosystem crap! The rays of the sun have nothing to do with my work!" Sherlock proclaimed with a dramatic throw of his arms, sinking in his seat with a childish pout sticking to his features.

"If the sun were to burn out, everyone would be dead and there wouldn't BE any cases to take with them all deceased! You wouldn't be able to even deduce the fact that the sun is blown out because you don't know anything about the galaxy!" John pointed out, Sherlock's brows furrowing in annoyance.

"We aren't talking about this", Sherlock turned his head away. 

"Oh we're talking about it", John exclaimed with a laugh. "You find this all so amusing?" Sherlock eyed him in disapproval. "Yes, I actually do. Sherlock Holmes, the most intelligent man I've ever met doesn't know elementary facts", John sipped his tea.

Sherlock shot up from his seat and marched to the kitchen, John's amused eyes following him. "Sherlock! What're you doing?"

"Evacuating from this conversation", Sherlock huffed while walking to his bedroom and kicking the door shut, ignoring the muffled sound of John's laughter.

________________

It seemed that all the cases being offered were becoming simpler and less exciting, at least in Sherlock's eyes. John couldn't understand that man no matter how hard he tried. Sherlock complained daily to John about his boredom yet his email was almost overflowing with cases yet none of them seemed to satisfy the picky prick.

John wanted Sherlock to be occupied. Sherlock was annoying when he was bored. Frankly he was tired of Mrs Hudson complaining about the holes in the walls.

"John?" Sherlock lingered beside John's chair, staring down at his expectantly. "What is it Sherlock?" John didn't look up from the screen of the television, hearing Sherlock let out a sharp exhale.

"Would you join me for a walk?" 

John's eyebrows furrowed in pure confusion, his eyes flicking to Sherlock with an expression of pure astonishment upon hearing Sherlock's offer. "A walk? Where to?"

"No specifications... Just a walk around outside", Sherlock pursed his lips momentarily, not changing his expression from his blank physique. "Are you okay Sherlock?" John switched off the TV and stood, eyeing Sherlock as if searching for an answer as to explain this endeavour. 

"I'm fine".

"Are you sure? You don't usually like to take walks... In fact I've never seen you go for a walk without the intent of studying cases", John spoke truthfully. He wasn't complaining that Sherlock wanted to go on a walk with John, he was just confused as to why because this hasn't ever occurred before this day.

"Problem?" Sherlock hummed with a bored look lingering upon his features.

"No... None".

"So you'll accompany me?" Sherlock eyes suddenly sparked but it was so quick John wasn't sure whether he had imagined it or not. "Sure", John smiled charmingly, a sharp intake of air entering through the Detectives nostrils as his eyes fixated on John who pulled on a jacket.

"Shall we?"

_____________

They had been walking for approximately 16 minutes and not a word was uttered, not that it mattered. The silence was comfortable and the two males didn't need conversation to keep the presence of the other bearable. John let out a silent breath, now thankful he had agreed. He hadn't realised just how much he needed this breath of fresh air. He felt at ease and rather pleased with himself to be with Sherlock for once without them having work to do.

Sherlock on the other hand was feeling tense and agitated, though he had perfected the art in hiding his emotions from John and anyone for that matter. Though the silence was not awkward it was almost unbearable.

He had a point in this. There was a reason for it but he didn't know how to go about addressing it. Maybe he asked for a walk because the walls in the flat seemed to be closing in on him and his thoughts. 

Sherlock's eyes subconsciously flicker to the shorter male walking at his side. He analysed every detail of John, from the hair on his head to the shoes on his feet. How could he possibly address this situation to this man? He was certain John wouldn't understand any better than he did, even though there was no straightforward answer to the situation.

The words were on the tip of his tongue as they danced around the walls of his mind, buzzing and fluttering with anxiousness to be released. "Sherlock!" John suddenly proclaimed in warning but Sherlock was too slow to react as his body smacked into a pole.

With a surprised gasp and a stumble backwards, Sherlock found himself on the cold ground with John kneeling at his side, his lips pursed in attempt to keep a neutral expression. "I... I seem to have come across an obstacle", Sherlock rose his palm to massage his head, soon hearing John howl with laughter.

Sherlock looked at him with a confused sort of expression before a gentle smile edged the corners of his lips and he chuckled along with the doctor. "A-Are you alright Sherlock?" John wiped a tear of joy from the corner of his eye as his laughter subsided.

"Of course I'm alright John, a mere pole won't do much to obtain me", he rolled his eyes and John giggled as he stood and looked at the pole with a crooked grin. "Well that was fucking brilliant, come on, get up", John offered his hand and Sherlock felt a string tighten within his chest before he smiled and accepted the offer gratefully.

"Should watch where you're going", John eyed his friend before a stern expression crossed his features and he stepped up to Sherlock, reaching his hands up to cup the taller males cheeks.

Sherlock felt his heart stop and his blood ran cold as John pulled his face down lower, feeling John's thumb raise and run over the skin on his forehead. "You're bleeding", Sherlock's mind dulled in disappointment of sorts as blood stained the padding of John's thumb.

Sherlock scolded himself ferociously for letting himself think such ludicrous things, his entire body suddenly felt bloated with shame and disapproval, pulling himself away from John's clutches. "I'll manage", Sherlock pressed the back of his hand to his aching forehead and turned away from John to hide his flaring cheeks.

"Let's go home", Sherlock grunted with a sharp veering, immediately abandoning his initial aim and choosing the option where he could go home and sulk in the confines of his bedroom alone.

Alone protects him from these circumstances. Alone. Alone. Alone.

___________


	7. Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad.

One would think it'd be blissful for Sherlock to be quiet. John thought it was pleasant for a while too but when Sherlock ceases to talk or make a sound for nearly five days, he begins to worry. Sherlock warned John when they first met that he may not speak for days at a time, but this was genuinely the first time Sherlock EVER followed that claim. 

Sherlock seemed to enjoy embarking on conversation. As long as it was with John, he was content. John noticed this. He noticed Sherlock preferred only speaking to John, Mrs Hudson got an occasional word or two out of him when he was in these moods, but John usually always got him to talk. 

This time. However. Sherlock didn't speak at all. In fact, John scarcely saw the detective disperse from his bedroom. John was almost certain he was sick but when Sherlock did come out, he looked tired rather than ill. 

"Sherlock?" John called from his seat, watching the tall man slowly move his head to the side slightly as indication he was listening to John. 

"Are you okay?"

He nodded faintly. 

"Do you need anything or are you feeling sick?" 

He shook his head. 

"You're awfully quiet." 

Sherlock didn't respond. 

"Quieter than usual."

"Does that distress you?" Sherlock finally uttered his first words that John had heard in the past five days. "Distress me? I'd say I'm concerned but what good does concern do?" John responded, hiding his relief upon hearing Sherlock's voice. 

"None", Sherlock stood from his seat and pushed it back under the table, moving to the counter in order to prepare a cup of tea for himself and John. He didn't need to ask if John wanted one. He just knew from observation. 

"But... Is there actually something wrong?" John asked, tracing his tongue over his chapped lips in order to moisten them. 

Sherlock's grasp on the edge of the counter tightened enough that his knuckles whitened. He wanted to tell John. Truly. But what good would that do? John couldn't possibly fix this. No, his knowledge of Sherlock's... Feelings would only add salt to the wound. No, perhaps it was best that John remained oblivious. It'd be best to allow Sherlock to dwell on the circumstance and sulk in silence as he has done for many years. 

Sherlock decided against answering John's query. 

Sherlock finished brewing the tea and lifted up John's mug, walking over to hold it out to his trusted friend. 

"Sherlock?" John refused to take it, knowing once he accepted the drink, Sherlock would just leave and vanish behind his bedroom door. 

"Tea. For you."

"Something is troubling you Sherlock", John's eyes narrowed up at Sherlock whose eye involuntarily twitched. John knew Sherlock too well at this point. He was the only one who bothered to learn enough about him that he knew when Sherlock was troubled. 

"Nothing I can't handle on my own accord. Now, take the cup." 

"How long will it take for you to sort it out?" John reluctantly rose his hand to grasp the warm mug. 

Sherlock stared at him for a long moment. He didn't know the answer so he'd rather not say anything at all. He didn't like being clueless. 

"I want to help you. Why won't you at least let me try?" John's voice was gentle and warm. He genuinely wanted to find out what was wrong. He genuinely did care about Sherlock. He doesn't show his compassion for the detective as much as he should've. He wanted to know more about Sherlock, he wanted to figure out whether Sherlock actually did have feelings. He wanted to find out whether he could help the troubles that were clearly riddling him. 

Sherlock stayed silent for lack of any words to say to this man. His mind formed so many sentences that needed to be said. He wanted to explain. He wanted to but he couldn't. 

"How could you help me?"

"I don't know, maybe if you tell me then I could at least try and see if there's something we can do."

Sherlock kneeled to John's eye level, staring him dead in the eyes with a lingering intensity. John sat the mug down on the table beside him, returning his gaze to lock with Sherlock's. He smiled patiently, indicating to Sherlock he would wait for him to start speaking if he wanted. 

If John was as observant as Sherlock, he wouldn't noticed how the detective's pupils dilated, he would have noticed his breathing patterns had grown ever so slightly more jagged, he would've been able to notice how fast his heart was beating by checking his pulse. 

Sherlock leaned closer slightly, John frowning but staying put. "What if what's troubling me is you?" Sherlock said gruffly, his expression remaining blank. John leaned back a bit as if stunned by Sherlock words, obviously not expecting that response. 

"Me? What about me?"

Sherlock stayed silent. John's eyes narrowed in irritation, hating the lack of communication. 

"Sherlock, what about me is troubling you?"

"I can't answer that question", Sherlock looked down sadly, gently raising his hand and gracing his slender fingers over John's knee. 

"Why not?"

"I can't answer a question that I myself do not know the answer to", Sherlock rose his gaze to reconnect with John's. 

"What do you want me to do then Sherlock? Must I move or leave you alone?"

"No. No not at all. That would be the worst thing you could possibly do", Sherlock shook his head, his curls dancing at the movement. 

"Then what?"

"I don't know", Sherlock didn't have any control of himself when he leaned forward a bit and closed his lips gently over John's. 

It was only held for a moment until Sherlock abruptly pulled back, both men staring at each other with wide eyes. 

"Wha-", Sherlock cut John off again by kissing him, a little more roughly than the last one, holding it for a second before shooting from his crouched position and retreating to his room before any words could be exchanged. 

John didn't move or speak. He stared after Sherlock in shock. Wondering what the fuck just happened. 

________


	8. A deduction of John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s response.

As John had expected. Sherlock made himself incredibly scarce for the next few days. Most of the time Sherlock wasn't even within the confines of the flat. John would find the bedroom door wide open but no Holmes man resonated within. He'd leave early in the morning and arrive late in the night.

 

John made no advances to contact him. He was still trying to wrap his head around was happened between them. Sherlock kissed him. Why?

 

Maybe that was an ignorant question. Was he that oblivious? How hadn't he noticed Sherlock was attracted to him? Or was this some kind of experiment? The thought infuriated John.

 

One day, a week since the incident occurred, John woke up early enough to catch Sherlock bounding down the steps of the staircase, quickly stopping him at the door by slamming it shut when Sherlock opened it.

 

"Good morning John, I assume you slept well?" Sherlock smiled his trademark fake grin to which John sneered.

 

"Don't even try that shit with me Sherlock."

 

"I don't follow?" Sherlock frowned innocently, pouting his lips in an oblivious manner. "How long were you planning on running away before we actually spoke about it?"

 

"About what?"

 

"Dammit Sherlock! Fucking stop avoiding the situation and tell me what the hell is going on with you!" John rose his voice and Sherlock heaved slightly, his eyes studying John.

 

"Everything alright with you boys?" Mrs Hudson appeared from her room, looking over with a curious gaze. "Nothing is alright Mrs Hudson, leave us be so we can sort this shit out", John smiled, not looking away from his partner.

 

"Such profanity John, it's not decent!"

 

"Nor is avoiding your best friend because you can't face your emotions".

 

"Dear Sherlock, is everything-"

 

"I agree with John, you should leave now", Sherlock interrupted, heading for the stairs slowly.

 

"Shall we?"

 

__________

 

Everything was agitating Sherlock. The morning sunlight beaming through the cracks of the blinds, the background noise that filled the space around him. John's occasional glances from his place in the kitchen, as if to ensure Sherlock was in fact still seated in his chair.

 

This was going to end horribly. Sherlock could feel it. There was no way John magically gained redundant emotions for Sherlock.

 

Sherlock has been avoiding John to work off these emotions, seeing and interacting with John would only deepen them more than they already were. John placed the cup of tea beside Sherlock, startling the man as he had not realized that John was at such a close proximity until he veered back.

 

John sat himself down in his seat and traced the rim of his cup with his index finger, unsure of how to go about talking.

 

"Well?" Sherlock inquired.

 

"Well what? Don't look at me like I've got to explain anything", John glared at him.

 

"Explain what?"

 

"Don't be petty Sherlock. You know I hate it when you do that."

 

"Are you really still pondering why I've been avoiding you after initiating an intimate act?" Sherlock didn't want to say 'kiss'. Intimate act sounded more personal and it meant more to him than John could ever imagine.

 

"Yes."

 

"Isn't it obvious? I knew you were ignorant John, but surely you can think for yourself?" Sherlock mocked him, lowering his eyes once John's intense glare became too much for him to handle.

 

"I'm... How do I put it? Confused about what I'm... Experiencing with regards to you", Sherlock wasn't very good at confessions. He never was and he never will be. He's only 'confessed' to two people including John. His first encounter was dreadful enough that he didn't want to relive the mortification he endured when expressing himself.

 

When he was downright rejected by her, he simply accepted that he was meant to be paired with loneliness since alone was what protected him. By being alone, he didn't have to face expectations, or commitments like what relationships had to offer.

 

That didn't mean he didn't want to at least experience what loving someone was like. What having someone love you was like. He'd never say it, but he didn't like being alone most of the time.

 

He liked being with John. The only person that was willing to listen to him, to backchat him so he doesn't let his ego blind him. The only person who offered companionship and consideration. The only person who stayed around enough to let Sherlock fall in love.

 

"Confused?" John ripped Sherlock from his train of thoughts. "Are you saying... That you... You, Sherlock Holmes, have a crush on me?" Sherlock could sense the amusement in John's voice. He'd rather have John amused than have him disgusted.

 

"A crush? Don't be ridiculous. I don't have 'crushes'", Sherlock wasn't lying. He had more than just an elementary school 'crush' on the man. However, if this conversation goes as Sherlock estimates, he will end up crushed.

 

"So what then?" John traced his tongue over his lips, Sherlock watching as he did so. God he hated it when John did that. It always sent Sherlock mixed signals and overall pushed Sherlock a bit to the edge.

 

"Are you in love with me?" John smiled sarcastically, obviously not taking the idea seriously. "Is that so impossible?" Sherlock challenged, for the first time he was letting his faint essences of emotions take the reigns.

 

"You can't be serious. Is this some kind of experiment? Because if it is Sherlock, I swear to god I will kill you", John gave him a serious expression, Sherlock smiling cynically.

 

"What if it was?" Sherlock questioned, leaning forward and propping his pray stances hands under his chin. "I'd be angry."

 

"I've seen you angry. This wouldn't make you angry unless it meant something to you. Any straight man would just laugh it off like a joke, but you don't strike me as that kind of man."

 

"What are you trying to prove?"

 

"If you didn't care, you would've tried to contact me and attempt to make us act like it never happened. Yes, you may take my feelings into consideration but how far does that stretch? No, you waited a week before you decided to stop me from leaving. You demand answers because you want to reduce your raging emotions by clarifying this was nothing but a test. That would mean we're just two men who had a strange encounter. But you know by now those aren't real between us."

 

"Sherlock. Stop."

 

"So what if it were real you thought? You couldn't bare to take that so you need me to insist that it wasn't anything to ease your heterosexuality, which at this point has numbed to nonexistence, if I prove to be right which I always am. So the question is, do you love me or not because I for a fact do love you", Sherlock smirked to himself, slipping his confession into his deductions, only having cracked these facts on the spot.

 

John didn't look impressed. He didn't look angry. His expression was unreadable and this aggravated Sherlock.

 

"You love doing that don't you?"

 

"You know me by now."

 

"I mean, twisting your deductions to your own advantage. I'm not gay Sherlock."

 

"As you have so keenly reminded everyone. But did I say you were gay? No, I said your heterosexuality is numbed."

 

"I'm flattered Sherlock really", John stood and swirled the remainder of what was his tea in its cup before connecting eyes with Sherlock again.

 

"But I do not reciprocate those emotions. Nor will I ever... Sorry."

 

________


	9. Greg

It was now John's turn to ignore Sherlock. The tension between the two was through the roof and even Mrs Hudson was able to pick up on it. 

Sherlock didn't act upon it however. What would he even say? He wasn't good at these kind of things. It hurt him to watch John avoid him whenever he could and it hurt him more knowing that he had no idea how to redeem himself.

Of course this was John denying what was right in front of him, but Sherlock bargained, or rather pleaded, that John would learn to come to terms with the facts. 

(I paused writing to look for a picture on Pinterest but it ended up with me spending an hour looking through different pictures of Ben and Martin... WHOOPS)

Sherlock couldn't keep his eyes off John, but was discreet about it, not that that changed anything. He was certain John knew Sherlock's eyes were on him the entire time. 

John wouldn't say anything, but he knew. Most of the time he just sat in his little chair or he was at work. His work hours seemed to stretch longer these days, Sherlock couldn't possibly imagine why. That was sarcasm. 

Sherlock's eyes raked over John's figure, studying him carefully. He had over dozens of cases that were begging for attention, but Sherlock most certainly preferred looking John over than solving crimes.

Which is mind boggling.

Nothing has ever caught Sherlock's attention quite like so. He's never preferred something over his work, which in translation was everything he lived for. The only problem is, he had the knowledge to do his work, but the only thing he didn't have was John.

He wanted John more than he wanted the Adrenalin to rush through his veins. 

No, the feeling or even thought of having John wholeheartedly made his heart race in a much more exhilarating than what he got from murder cases. It was more addicting that heroin and cocaine or any drug that any human could conjure up.

He wanted to touch John. He wanted to feel John's skin beneath the tips of his fingers, to feel John's hands caressing his own flesh.

Such shameful thoughts.

He couldn't help himself. He was so far gone that going back was almost impossible. John's determination to avoid the subject only made him want more. Impossible things were the most desirable to Sherlock.

Besides, it wasn't actually impossible. 

He was sure John felt the same. Be that his desperation to hold onto hope or true fact. He just felt like his emotions weren't one sided. 

He just hoped that John would come to see it rather sooner than later, he wasn't sure how much more of this unbearable silence he could take. Never had he hated the silence more. His emotions were raging and he had no control. 

His emotions have never been quite so vivid. His yearning for another being was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. 

"No", Sherlock spoke up when he heard the door slightly creak open, already knowing the request Lestrade was going to offer before he had the chance to spread his lips and begin speaking.

"I didn't even say anything!"

"You didn't need to, when do you ever come here just for tea? I'm not interested", Sherlock looked away from Lestrade to the window. "Sherlock what if he has an interesting case?" John spoke up and Sherlock's eyes looked at John from his reflection on the glass of the window.

"Suddenly when we have company you now are more open to speaking to me? How two faced of you", Sherlock bluntly remarked and John's eyes narrowed.

"Greg has nothing to do with our personal discrepancies, Sherlock".

"Discrepancies?" Sherlock laughed coldly, turning to look at John with broadened eyes. He was insulted.

"Is that what you call it?"

"Maybe this isn't a good time? I should just-"

"Not at all Graham, take a seat, get some tea and enjoy the show. I've got nothing to hide. The world is a book ready to be filled with stories!" Sherlock slapped his hands together and walked towards Greg with wide eyes.

"I-It's Greg".

"Whatever you say!" Sherlock threw his head back and laughed, pulling Greg inside and forcing him into the chair. "Tea? Beer? I know John enjoys the latter!" Sherlock leaned close to Greg's face and grinned widely. He was furious, John could tell.

Greg thought Sherlock was off his rocker. Wondering what drugs he was on and where he could get them.

"Sherlock, stop. You're being a dick", John snapped and Sherlock turned to him with narrowed eyes. Sherlock's vision was growing blurry the more his rage increased.

"Discrepancy? Like an illogical lack of compatibility? My emotions is what you call a discrepancy?" Sherlock hissed venomously, approaching John's seat with slow and short steps.

"I really should be-"

"Shut your trap and keep your seat!" Sherlock snapped at Lestrade without having to look at him. He was no longer in control. He was acting on passion. He was hurt and his fractured and raging feelings were overflowing. He couldn't do this, pulling the brave face only works for so long until it becomes too much.

He had lost patience in the game. He didn't want to play anymore.

"Admit it John! You're just denying the facts at this point! If it didn't bother you or it wasn't true to begin with, you wouldn't ignore me or insult my emotions in the way you have! I would've accepted that you can't reciprocate and moved on, but you acting like a child just made me realise you feel exactly the same but won't admit it." 

"Sherlock, you're really pissing me off".

"I'm in love with you John! Your ignorance and insensitivity is pissing me off!" Sherlock rose his voice and Greg cleared his throat, feeling really out of place and uncomfortable.

This was not how he expected this meeting to go. He just wanted Sherlock to help on a case, not to be in the midst of a gay soap opera.

"I'm sorry but I can't help you! I'm not interested Sherlock", John turned away from Sherlock and tried to pass him but Sherlock grabbed his forearm and forced him to meet his gaze.

"Look me in the eyes and say you don't feel anything. If that is really the case, I'll never mention it again. Swear to me in front of our witness George".

"S-Still Greg", Lestrade mumbled but neither men registered he spoke at all.

John stared at Sherlock. Sherlock stared back.

It was silent. 

Deafening silence.

______________


End file.
